


The Trouble with T'Pring

by Isilanna (Betazoa)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/F, Just the Beginning, Pre-Slash, Rarepair Gre'thor, femmeslash, rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 11:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8666188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Betazoa/pseuds/Isilanna
Summary: Written for benicebefunny as part of the November Trek Rarepair SwapNyota is minding her own business on K7 -- and perhaps a little of Cyrano Jones' business -- when she's approached by a Vulcan woman she doesn't know. Or does she?(Original timeline meets new timeline)





	

Nyota makes the most of the shore leave Captain Kirk has granted on K7 by finding the bar immediately. The Enterprise has been docked perhaps only an hour and she's already on her second Altarian flashwater. The drink is new to her, particularly since the Enterprise is only very infrequently at Starbases, but it's quickly becoming a favorite. It's got a fruity, herbaceous flavor she can't quite place with her limited human palate. As she downs the last amount, she can feel a pleasant buzz tingling along her extremities, and it scarcely disturbs her when the waitress gives her a pointed look as she collects both empty glasses.  
  
She isn't even bothered that the woman, whose hair is as big as her disapproval, does not ask her if she'd like another. Nyota has never been a fan of drunkenness; a little tipsiness is one thing, but further loss of her faculties is too much for her to accept, even temporarily. She'd only wanted to feel nice again, to get to that peculiar floating sensation that felt something like happiness that a few but not too many drinks could bring. She feels a touch outside of herself now, her worries belonging to another day, another Nyota Uhura.  
  
This Nyota only wants to lean back in her seat and watch the world play itself out around her in the colorful cantina here on K7. It's been three months since she was last off ship, and she didn't even realize how desperate she was for some color beyond the tapestries hung in her own quarters to press back the dinginess of it all. Space was so black and vast and the Enterprise was so gray and her eyes were just _tired_. At least here, the walls were splashed with color, gaudy as it was in rust orange and spring green and vivid fuchsia hues. She didn't think much of the interior design choices, but at least it wasn't _gray_.  
  
She's surreptitiously observing a pair of men from a species unknown to her -- though they could be women or some other gender, she amends thoughtfully -- conducting a clandestine exchange beneath their table, goods changing hands. She begins to wonder if she ought to inform the K7 security officer who is stationed outside the cantina of what she's seen, when a clamor of raised voices a few seats further along the bar derails her train of thought.  
  
The bartender is yelling at a merchant, a human man in a long, belted coat covered in pockets about the wares he is trying to hawk. "I'm up to my ears in Spican flame gems, Jones, and I'll have you thrown out if you so much as try to show me another!"  
  
The man, Jones, holds up his hands placatingly, and Nyota wishes she still had a glass to sip from so she could observe unobtrusively from her peripheral instead of watching outright. "None of that today, my friend," he assures. His hands fly to his chest, patting one pocket and then another, before finding the one he was looking for and plucking something fluffy from within in. It hums soothingly and Nyota leans toward it, transfixed.  
  
"What is it?" she asks, words flying unbidden from her lips. The pair of men turn to look at her in unison, and even in her floating state she feels a frission of embarrassment run over her.  
  
Before Jones can answer her, someone speaks her name from behind. _"Du nam-tor Uhura."_  
  
Nyota spins around in her chair too quickly, and has to blink several times to regain her equilibrium. She hasn't heard anyone speaking Vulcan since the recent fracture of her relationship, and yet here in front of her stands a Vulcan woman, as out of place in the cantina as a horta in a swimming pool. Suddenly, she wished she hadn't had those two drinks after all.  
  
_"Du nam-tor yeht,"_ she responds politely yet warily, wondering how this woman, this unlikely woman in this unlikely place knows her name. _"Uf nam-tor du wimish, sanu?"_  
  
"I am T'Pring, daughter of T'Leri," the woman says, inclining her head, atop which her hair is twisted gracefully into a crowning shape. Uhura is stricken by how elegant this woman is, with the characteristic almond-shaped eyes of her people and a flowing gown that is entirely out of place on this tacky space station. T'Pring arches one sharp eyebrow adroitly at Nyota's scrutiny, and quickly she remembers her manners.  
  
"Won't you please have a seat?" She gestures to the open seat beside her, on the opposite side of where Jones is now extolling the virtues of the purring ball of fluff to an unconvinced bartender.  
  
The woman drapes herself over the barstool as if it's a royal throne, and carelessly waves away the waitress who spotted her. "Your Vulcanian is very good," she says, and with her use of the obsolete Standard name for her native tongue, Nyota notes that she must not have spent much time off Vulcan before the planet was destroyed.  
  
"I've had a lot of practice," she replies.  
  
"I know," T'Pring tells her, and Nyota gives her a long look. "I was once _koon'ul tersu_ with your former lover."  
  
If Nyota had a glass in her hand she would have dropped it or perhaps crushed it in her hand because she knows who this woman is now. Spock spoke of her only once, but the evident pain behind the story he had told of the betrothal partner who had rejected him while they were adolescents because of his half-human status left a powerful impression with her.  
  
The fury in her eyes must have shown because T'Pring holds up both hands in a distinctly un-Vulcan gesture of peace. "What you know of me, I ask that you forget." Before Nyota can even snarl a defiant refusal, the woman continues. "You do not know the true story, for Spock did not always know the true story. I have sent him message after message, but he has not acknowledged them even once. So now I will tell you also, to clear away this misunderstanding."  
  
Nyota leans forward, close enough to T'Pring to make the other woman clearly uncomfortable with her proximity, as clear-headed as she's ever been. "Spock and I may have parted ways, but I'll be damned if I sit here and listen to the excuses of a _sakathilak, riolozhikaik oluhkerhtusk_ who has come slithering back to a man she previously couldn't be bothered with now that her field of choice has drastically narrowed."  
  
She stands, so forcefully the barstool spins a little in her wake, and stalks out of the cantina without another word. She can feel the fury practically coursing through her veins, remembering the way Spock had paused during his explanation of the short period during which he'd been betrothed. She had looked away to give him his dignity as he swallowed hard, remembering the young woman who had rejected him out of hand because his Vulcan blood did not run pure enough for her tastes.  
  
Barely a few steps down the corridor, a hand lands on her wrist, and lightning-fast Nyota grabs the arm attached to it, spinning on her heel and pinning T'Pring to the wall of the corridor. "Why are you _following_ me?"  
  
To her credit, the Vulcan woman's expression remains impassive, as if Nyota was not painfully leveraging her arm and could not easily pop her shoulder out of its socket if it pleased her. "I would like you to understand, Lieutenant." A small hiss escapes her as Nyota presses her arm a little harder and the tendons strain further. "I need you to understand." In a whisper, "I cannot bear that anyone should think that of me."  
  
Whether out of pity or disgust she doesn't know, but Nyota releases her at that very _human_ admission. She takes a step back as T'Pring straightens up, straightening her dress before stretching out her abused arm and flexing the fingers to return feeling to them. Nyota does not feel guilty in the slightest at having easily overpowered this obviously untrained, nearly-helpless woman; she _doesn't._  
  
"If you want to clear the air about why you severed your bethrothal pact, why me? Why aren't you looking for Spock?" Nyota can't help her distaste for this woman, on multiple levels; even if Spock was somehow mistaken about what had occurred in the past, it was still obvious that T'Pring had come here to--to _claim_ him. She and Spock had been broken up for months now, but she could hardly countenance another woman moving in on him so soon considering how long they had been committed to one another.  
  
"It is because of your former close association with Spock that I sought you out," T'Pring explains, the impassive mask returning to her face. "I have come to ask for your assistance, though I know I you have no reason to extend it to me and I do not expect you will accede. However, I ask from a-- _humanitarian_ perspective, for as you know my people's situation is dire."  
  
Nyota's jaw clenches and she is barely able to speak her next words. "You want me to help you win Spock back. And you expect me to help because of the Vulcan population crisis, even though you know full well I don't want to help _you_."  
  
T'Pring bows her head in acknowledgement. "I come to you with full humility, Lieutenant Uhura. Our situation is dire, and I find myself without any other choice."  
  
"So you still don't want him?" Nyota shakes her head scornfully. "You don't deserve either my help or to be his wife." Once more, she stalks away from the Vulcan woman.  
  
And once more, she hears the sound of someone following her. T'Pring falls in step beside her, but Nyota knows she can lose her at the transporter room; no one can be admitted onto the Enterprise without the approval of a senior staff member, and she certainly won't authorize it. Let the woman walk beside her and talk at her without being heard until then.  
  
"I could never countenance marriage to Spock," T'Pring says in that cold way Vulcans have, as if the sentiment is completely undeserving of the sympathy it should have been given. Nyota takes a deep breath and bites back her retort, only to find herself abruptly taken aback at T'Pring's next words:  
  
"As I could never countenance marriage to any man. It is simply as I was born."  
  
Now Nyota stops dead in her tracks, turning to T'Pring with a look of incredulity. "You rejected the betrothal because you're _ko-ka-ashausu,"_ she breathes, not a question but a statement. T'Pring looks away and it's as close to an expression of embarrassment as one of her race will allow herself to show. "Why didn't you just say that then?"  
  
There is a long pause. "I was young," the Vulcan woman says at last. "I did not behave as logic would dictate."  
  
Nyota puts a hand to her face, trying and failing to smother the laughter that bubbles up inside her. Based on T'Pring's indignant sniff, she knows the other woman does _not_ understand, so she hastens to explain. "I don't think at that age any of us did."  
  
"You cannot understand," T'Pring interrupts her, a touch of badly-suppressed annoyance in her voice. "At that age we are expected to be in full control of our emotions, yet I found myself torn apart by shame. Shame, for being different, for being unable to meet the expectations of my parents for such a prestigious marriage to the son of Sarek, for the excuse I gave to free myself of the betrothal while protecting my secret..."  
  
T'Pring is starting to sound worked up, so Nyota reaches out and grabs her shoulder. "T'Pring, you might not think I can understand, but I _can."_ She remembers all too well the night she had sat down with her mother and father at their kitchen table and told them her own truths. "I know how difficult it is to find yourself at odds with the status quo when you're young and still trying to figure out your place in the world. Before Spock, I had only ever dated women."  
  
The look on T'Pring's face is the closest thing to desperation Nyota has ever seen on a Vulcan's face. Before her stands a woman desperate to be understood and accepted after a lifetime of defensive deception and subsequent shame. "Would you--" Nyota sighs, sure her offer will be rejected. "Would you like to talk about it?"  
  
"Please," T'Pring says quickly, in a small voice, and Nyota is taken aback at the continued display of emotional disruption from this woman, who is a virtual stranger to her.  
  
She takes T'Pring's elbow just for a moment, to lead her aimlessly through the corridors; it's easier to confide when you don't have to stare someone down directly, she knows. They wind circles around the small station of K7, even passing through the corridors of unpopulated storage areas. Lap after lap, they share the secrets of being _different_ in a world that accepts them but still does not always _understand_. Back and forth they go, unraveling their whole stories to each other strand by strand.  
  
T'Pring's first realization was at age 9 when she wanted very badly to be paired with one specific girl in her class on a project, just to be near her. The first girl Nyota kissed wasn't sure if she was gay (or even bisexual), and it turned out she wasn't. The first girl who kissed T'Pring had been unceremoniously shoved away, to much regret and self-recrimination later. Nyota had once developed simultaneous crushes on a pair of fraternal twins -- a boy and a girl -- and ultimately ended up doing nothing about it when she learned they were both only interested in boys. When T'Pring reached adolescence and could no longer ignore the fact that she had no interested in men, she began to develop a great anxiety about her betrothal. Nyota's parents had told her they loved her unconditionally and thanked her for trusting them enough to open up about her sexuality, but they'd also asked if she was sure she was attracted to boys at all since she had admitted to never having been involved with any.  
  
For over an hour they walk and talk and laugh -- or rather, Nyota laughs while T'Pring inclines her head in acknowledgement of an amusing anecdote -- and finally they come around to the subject of Spock, just as they were passing by the cantina for the eighth time.  
  
"I always appreciated boys, but I was really questioning whether I was actually attracted to them in the same way when I met Spock," Nyota admits. T'Pring nods encouragingly; she was a very engaged listener who seemed to know just when to make a comment or ask a question or say nothing at all. "My folks were shocked when I told them I was dating a man -- and a half-Vulcan man, at that. People don't really seem to understand when you like both sexes -- both the standard human ones, anyway -- because they can't fit you neatly into one of the little boxes in their head. I think maybe I was starting to internalize their doubts about me."  
  
"But then you met Spock," T'Pring says, and Nyota sighs again. "I have...often wondered what sort of man he was. If I had gone along with the betrothal, what sort of husband he would have been to me."  
  
"A good one," Nyota says decisively. "I think he would have understood you better than your family did -- there's no way he wouldn't have seen through your pretense if you had married him. He would have respected it, too."  
  
T'Pring stops dead in her tracks and a second later, Nyota turns back to face her in puzzlement. "Vulcan marriages are binding for life. Please explain your meaning."  
  
Nyota smiles sadly and continues walking, waiting to speak until she hears T'Pring beside her once more. "Vulcan marriages may be binding, but they are by no means _policed_. He would have found another outlet for his...needs." She locks eyes with T'Pring briefly. "And I'm sure he would have wanted you to do the same."  
  
"You truly believe that?" At Nyota's nod, all she says further was, "I see."  
  
"I'm glad you didn't, though." Nyota does not wait for the question to explain herself. "The time I had with Spock...it was priceless to me. Even though in the end I was ultimately hurt -- we were _both_ hurt -- I wouldn't change a thing, and that's something that I could never have had if the two of you had married. He might have looked for someone agreeable to fulfill his needs for the _pon farr_ , but I don't think he would ever have engaged in a formal relationship."  
  
"You loved him." T'Pring says, and it's not a question.  
  
Nyota corrects her, though. "I still love him." She swallows hard and looks down to hide her expression, feeling the edge of sadness creeping up to close her throat and fill her eyes with moisture. "I probably always will, in some way. But Spock has ultimately decided to dedicate himself to the future of Vulcan in a way I can't help with. Our paths diverge from this point. It's just how it has to be."  
  
There is a long pause between them, the only sound that of their quiet footsteps on the worn carpet as they walk. "If that is the case, then perhaps I was mistaken in coming here," T'Pring says at last. Nyota glances curiously at the woman, only to be frustrated by the continued impassive façade. "As you intimated earlier, I did come in search of Spock not only to make amends, but to fulfill my duties to our people in their time of great need."  
  
Nyota's stomach twists at hearing the admission aloud. "You want to have his child to assist with the population crisis."  
  
T'Pring inclines her head to confirm this. "Spock's half-human heritage is of no concern in the long term. In the wake of Vulcan's destruction, all Vulcan women of bearing age are being urged to produce children to make up for the crippling losses sustained that day."  
  
"Why Spock?" Nyota asks, sick at the very notion of T'Pring and Spock forced together by circumstance, and not a little jealous.  
  
T'Pring hesitates, seeming about to speak several times before finally managing to say something. "I am here at my father's urging. He and my mother still do not know." About what, she does not need to clarify. "There were also...concerns that Spock might not be a part of the repopulation effort because he had previously been attached to you. I have been asked to attempt reconciliation in hopes that it will encourage him to do so, although it seems needless if what you say is true."  
  
Nyota laughs aloud at that, thinking that whichever Vulcan official dreamed up this plan did not know Spock very well.  
  
"Do you think he will not agree to share his genetic material with me?" If T'Pring was a human, her voice would be laced with concern, but years of dating a Vulcan have taught Nyota how to intepret through their calm tones.  
  
"No, he will," she says firmly, "because I'm going to go with you and help convince him. It'll be good for you both to get some closure on what happened years ago, and you're both already willing to do what must be done to help your people." She pauses and then chuckles. "Although you'll have to get Doctor McCoy to help with that part, I'm sure."  
  
T'Pring abruptly stops walking once more and grabs both of Nyota's hands. Her eyes are wide, very near to a vulnerable expression. "I am honored that you would do as much for me."  
  
Nyota feels a flush coming over her face and she squeezes T'Pring's hands back. "It's nothing. You're a good person trying to correct a mistake, I'm glad to help."  
  
"In any case," she says in more business-like tone, dropping T'Pring's hands suddenly, "Spock is still on duty until this evening, so we can't go speak to him now."  
  
"I see," T'Pring says carefully. After a beat, she asks, "Then would you do me the privilege of accompanying me until then? I find your company most agreeable. Perhaps they will have something from my homeworld that I can introduce you to at the cantina."  
  
A slow smile spreads acros Nyota's face, replacing her intial look of shock. "I would find that agreeable as well."  
  
At a more sedate pace than previously, they continue along their circuit of K7, this time with a destination in mind. And if T'Pring takes her hand again as they walk, Nyota allows it to pass without comment, letting their fingers entwine. And if they pass by a certain half-Vulcan officer himself on their way as he stands alongside Captain Kirk in discussion with the obviously-irritated Undersecretary Nilz Baris, she gives no indication that she has seen him at all. And if she thinks that Spock's eyes widened in surprise as he saw the two of them together quite unexpectedly, she perhaps smiles a little.  
  
She'd started out the day seeking something that would help her put her trouble aside. Now, not even another flashwater could have made her feel as nice.


End file.
